House's Heart
by wight 2s
Summary: What if Wilson hadn't been working that night? What if Amber hadn't driven to pick up House?
1. Chapter 1

"House!" Hearing Cuddy's frantic shouting, House quickly hid the bottle of scotch under his chair and leant forwards to read over the file on his desk. He just hoped she wouldn't notice it was for a sixty-nine year old runner who'd been admitted by Cameron after complaining about having sore legs.

The door burst in and a teary eyed, angry and slightly drunken Cuddy burst through the door. She was dressed in a black suit and to fit the occasion had actually done the top buttons of her shirt up.

"House! What the Hell, do you think your doing!" She stood only yards away from his desk, her hands shaking in fury. A trickle of wet tears darting down her cheek.

"Masturbating." House smiled innocently. "Or my job, I can't really remember. You probably don't have the same problem since both of them interconnect for you, but it's actually a relatively common state of confusion." He allowed his eyes to stay on Cuddy for just the right amount of time before turning back to his work.

Cuddy stepped towards his desk, her face covered in a mixture of angry and saddened tears. "Stand up!" She only just managed to string the end of the sentence together.

"Sorry?" House looked up from the file in confusion

"I said, Stand up!" She repeated, her hand pointed towards House.

For a moment House considered vocally retaliating but finally decided just to play along. Standing up he suddenly found himself thudding to the ground as the palm of Cuddy's wet hand slapped him across the face. A sharp pain shot through the whole in his leg causing him to jerk violently into a humiliating ball as he struck the ground.

"Don't you feel any guilt!" Cuddy moved around the table to stand above House, "Any Pain!" She screamed before kicking him hard in the leg with the side of her heel.

Trying to ignore the pain House replied through gritted teeth, "I wasn't driving the bus! I wasn't driving the garbage truck!" He clawed towards his desk and threw a hand onto it for balance as he pushed himself back onto his feet

"Your fired House." Cuddy said before turning her back to him and walking towards the door.

"Your firing me for not going to a funeral." House grabbed his cane as he was almost on his feet and in painful stricken limp he marched after her.

At the door Cuddy turned to face him. Her face was now covered in tears. Her eyes red and her throat was swallowing down ever breath painfully as she tried to keep form.

"House!" She didn't shout, instead she was begging with something she believed to be inside him - a conscience. "He was your best-friend! Wilson did everything for you!" At the sound of his name House's eyes darted to the ground away from Cuddy. "He loved you." She turned and walked out of the office leaving House alone in his dull lit world.

"I don't feel guilty!" He shouted after her in defiance.

"I'm not sorry." He muttered to himself before turning back to his desk. Allowing his cane to rest on his seat he reached into his pocket for his Vicodin. Pouring out the last two pills he threw them to the back of his mouth before swallowing.


	2. Chapter 2

"House? House, call me back as soon as you get this. It's Cameron by the way." The answer machine clicked off with the overly high pitched beep which caused House to wince in pain.

He was lying on the couch, a whiskey bottle in one hand and his last stash of Vicodin in the other. He could at least admit to himself that he missed Wilson's ability to overlook his addiction and prescribe him his pills; everyone else just told him to go to the cemetery or left twenty-three annoying voicemails over the course of two days and yet still felt the need to place their name on the end.

House pushed the delete button on the machine in a pathetic movement as he pushed through the Vicodin and Alcohol morning detox. That was when he smelt it. Vomit.

Sighing he picked up the phone to get it cleaned up.

He pressed one button and placed the receiver to his ear."Cameron, I need you."

* * *

Chase only stared in disbelief as Cameron set about moping up the mess on the floor. When she asked him to take House into the bathroom and help him shower it became all too much.

"No way. Look at him! He's using you to do his housework!"

"His leg was sore. He couldn't manage it all on his own." She replied in a high-pitched defensive whine.

"Cameron, the only reason he's in pain is because he has a hell of a hang over and he's not had Vicodin this morning-"

"Only because no one will prescribe it for him!" She interrupted.

"Oh I forgot you were the first to offer him meds weren't you!"

"I only said no so he would help himself by going to see Wilson, the rest of you wanted payback!"

Before Chase could reply House injected himself into the conversation, "I need to pee," he stated, looking blankly up at Cameron, who transferred his look to Chase."No!" He objected, "No way!"

* * *

"Foreman have a new case yet?" House asked innocently, his eyes fixed on a single point below.

"Can we please not talk?" Chase asked, his eyes operating oppositely to House's were fixed to the ceiling. "And I'm not helping you shower." He added.

They were standing in House's cramped bathroom. Chase was standing half in the bath and half out as House stood taking most of the space in front of the toilet seat.

"I don't want _you_ to shower me." House turned his head to face Chase and smiled innocently, who only gave him an emotionless frown before glancing down and then back up at the ceiling.

Before House had time to question the inappropriate glance Chase retorted "You know in Australia that's considered inadequate."Wondering if the hangover was playing with his ears or if Chase had grown a back-bone House replied, "I'm sure you'd know all about that." Pulling up his zip up on the last word for some dramatic effect. Picking up his cane he used it to flush the toilet. "And I only needed someone to help me in here, not actually watch." He added, screwing up his facial features slightly in a kind of fake out - (limping out) - they both looked up to find Cameron with her bag over one shoulder, ready to leave."Thank god." Chase said in a heavy Australian twinge on 'god'."You're staying." Cameron replied icily."I am not!" Chase replied confidently and was already half way to the Cameron could argue back, House interjected, "He's right. He's not." He met Chases eyes and they stood for a good few seconds in a psychotic stand off with each other, sending their annoyance and hate through the air between them."You are, and he is." She told House more forcibly and grabbed Chase's arm before whispering something in his just leant on his cane in patient annoyance as they whispered back to each other.

At first Cameron was forceful and aggressive in her hushed replied in annoyance - House was able to hear only the words 'but' and 'fair' spoken.

Cameron then lowered her tone and pushed herself closer to Chase, House could only guess it was an attempt at seducing/pleading with him to stay. For what reason, most people would say 'god only knows', but with Cameron Housed guessed it was more 'Cameron only knows'.Chase finished their conversation with a shake of his head and an audible, 'Fine!'

Cameron leaned in and kissed him on the cheek before turning to leave."Bye House." She called behind her as she closed the door. It shut with and audible bang which left an awkward silence between the two men in its wake.

"If she told you that if you didn't stay then you weren't getting any sex, then don't believe her. She used to use it on me _all _the time during differentials, but a shake of my cane she was bent over backwards across my desk by the afternoon." House smiled sharply, "Drink?"Chase sighed and fell to the couch in a heap. "Yeah alright." He said in surrender.

"Good," House said, "The fridge is just through there, and I'll have a beer thanks." Clumsily he pulled himself down onto the couch; a few moans of pain ruining the dominant effect the sentence was suppose to stared at him for a few seconds before finally getting up to go to the kitchen. Opening the fridge he felt rage and annoyance build up inside - there was one beer left, and he could almost rely on House to know spun around instantly as he heard the whisp of a beer opening and the sound of gurgling. Chase stood in the kitchen with the bottle held to his lips, the cold liquid pouring down his throat. When he took his lips away from the beer he let out an audible 'Ahhhh.'In his head House was frowning in annoyance, but on the outside he only smiled devilishly and reached down the back of the sofa to produce half a bottle of scotch. He shook it for House to see before throwing three quarters of the contents down his throat. He smiled and fell back to his lying position on the couch only just managing to hide a grimace which would show the pain from the scotch burning the back of his unison House and Chase both thought one thing - _This is going to be a very long day._


	3. Chapter 3

Silence.

The sound of a car passing by breaks he tension for a second, only to be suffocated by an again eerie silence.

"Why are you here?" House asked finally, the tone of his voice not hiding the fact that he was only following his self-absorbed curiosity.

"Cameron asked me to." Chase replied impatiently.

"But, she said something to you." House stated although it was obvious he was actually asking Chase 'What did she actually say to you!?'

"She did yeah." Chase replied, obviously not wanting to play House's game."Was it to do with," House paused, pretending to think, "sex?"

"No." Chase said, he really wasn't going to play, but House could hear the squirm of annoyance at the edge of his voice. Before House could open his mouth Chase added, "I'm not going to tell you."

Unluckily for Chase, House was still up for torturing him throughout the afternoon even if it did mean suffering more than just a sore throat and second hangover to come.

"Oral sex?" House replied with a helpful shrug.

* * *

_The bus spun onto its side sending shards of glass in every direction. House looked around the bus for Wilson but couldn't find him anywhere. Grabbing hold of the railing he tried to turn and look the other way for his friend._

_That was when the bus struck some other unknown object. House, with only one hand on the support railing at the time, went flying sideways into a seat, he heard his arm crack just before the darkness took him, before the darkness covered him in its protective blanket, hiding Wilson's fate for a few hours until he returned to consciousness_

_* * *_

"We need House!" Thirteen cried out, surprising the rest of the team.

"No," Foreman said with the 'o' continuing in a 'ohhhhh' sound, "we don't. House is wrong all the time, one bad diagnosis doesn't scream crisis, you know that as well as I do."

"She almost died!" Foreman couldn't help but cringe at the high-pitched vowels in Thirteen's voice.

"House wouldn't care what happened to her." Taub interjected, giving Thirteen a frownful look.

Thirteen let out a high pitched moan which sounded more like a crow cawing, "Exactly! He'd solve the puzzle! What are we doing?""Arguing over something which you have no influence on." Cameron was standing at the glass door now in a pair of scrubs. She was holding a slushy in her hand.

Turning away from Thirteen she looked towards Foreman, "Symptoms?" She asked.

"Your patient with the sore leg just went into cardiac-arrest."

"Which patient?" Cameron asked coolly.

"Mr Renwood, the sixty nine year old runner." He replied.

"File?" She asked, again coolly. Foreman twisted his head in confusement about her attitude.

"We can't find." He stuttered, still confused.

"I gave it to House, check the bin."

_* * *_

"When my dad died." Chase said after a few minutes of silence, "I killed a patient, and that was a man I hated." He looked towards House, his eyes looking for some kind of reaction to show that his old mentor was human after all.

"Exactly," House said, "I got sacked so the team would kill the next patient." House smiled darkly, "Can let you go having all the fun."

"Don't." Chase said firmly.

"Don't what?"

"Don't," Chase sat forwards, "pretend you don't care, you loved Wilson and-" Before he could finish House interrupted.

"I'm not pretending. I really don't." He met Chase's stare once more and they both sat for a moment just waiting for the other to look away.

"I know you care," Chase kept up the stare, "Because if you didn't you'd be upset about losing a fun puzzle to play with, but your not, which means your lying."

"That's because you're here, and it was always more fun to mess with you than Wilson ever was."

"Your coward whose too scared to show that he's weaker than he would like everyone to think."

"I walk with a cane, am used to being seen as weak."

"Nope," Chase broke the eye contact, "You've only ever use your leg to get what you want. You pretend the Vicodin doesn't affect your life, you've so far lost the only two people you've cared about to your leg -"

"Wilson died in a bus crash and I let Stacy go when I had a chance to be with her, so don't lecture me-" It was Chase's turn to cut the other short.

"I meant Cuddy." House didn't reply to that, instead they sat for another ten minutes in silence, the sound of the car's passing by was the only thing which broke up each passing second.


End file.
